


Feel It After Midnight

by heauregard



Series: PWP [4]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Degradation, Dom Oma Kokichi, Dom Saihara Shuichi, Drinking, F/F, Female Oma Kokichi, Female Saihara Shuichi, Femslash, Friendship, Halloween Costumes, Oral Sex, PWP, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Scissoring, Shy Saihara Shuichi, Slurs, Sub Oma Kokichi, Sub Saihara Shuichi, but everything is consensual!, drv3 - Freeform, pregame personalities, we all know oma says slurs cmon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heauregard/pseuds/heauregard
Summary: Ouma and Saihara get home from a Halloween party and - in Ouma's words - have "crazy lesbian sex".femslash oumasai pwp brainrot hours yallplease read tags Ouma be sayin degrading slurs in this
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: PWP [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335739
Comments: 9
Kudos: 121





	Feel It After Midnight

Saihara is watching the way Ouma is pressing up against her, the smaller girl’s body warm and firm against her front side. Ouma is dressed so scandalously and smells so intoxicating that the navy hair colored girl has to hold back her urges to touch and feel and hold with a pained smile when the other looks up at her.

_ “It’s Halloween! I’m allowed to dress sluttier than usual!” _

That had been the excuse she gave when Saihara questioned her about the black and white corset tied tightly around her petite frame. The long, dark cape she wore covered most of the exposed skin she was showing, but the dramatic sways and moves she made with her arms made it easy for anyone to see the black fishnet stockings accentuating her thin pale thighs beneath the white tule skirt. Saihara wondered to herself how Ouma could possibly bear to still be standing on her feet when her thigh-high boots must have been killing her them. 

“Get out of your head and get me another drink!” Ouma shouts suddenly, pulling her taller friend’s head out of her own thoughts.

The blue-haired girl was moving before she could even fully comprehend the order given to her. She makes her way into the kitchen of the house party Ouma has dragged her to against her will and fills yet another cup with alcohol. After the smaller female also downs that one in no time, Saihara finally puts her foot down.

“I don’t know how you’re not already drunk, but no more for you. I’m cutting you off.”

“You’re so mean!”

Saihara shrugs, watching the crocodile tears well up in her friend’s indigo eyes, then die off just as quickly.

“Ah, I can’t stay mad at you!” Ouma yells out over the music, grasping at the taller female’s thin wrists to pull her closer. “Now dance with me!”

Saihara isn’t much of a dancer, but she adheres to the other’s request/demand and sways the directions that she is led to. Before long, she can sense a smile tugging at her thin lips, body going laxer. The braid that her long, dark hair is in is starting to unravel with the increasingly jerkier movements and then slender fingers with neatly painted black nails tug at the tie to free the strands. While they fall over her shoulders, Ouma closes in and leans up to speak with her lips inches away from Saihara’s.

“Kay, I’m bored of this place now. Let’s go back home.”

Saihara complies easily, letting the shorter but more assertive female lead her through the crowd and out into the dim night. She drives them back to their shared apartment, watching Ouma fix her sailor’s cap in the mirror where she sits unbothered in the passenger seat. Once they’re through the front door, Ouma is whining and pulling off her boots.

“Saihara-chan, help me!”

With a soft chuckle, the navy-haired girl shrugs off her trenchcoat and abandons her matching deerstalker cap on the couch, then drops to her knees. Ouma steadies herself with one hand on Saihara’s slender shoulder, dainty fingertips digging into clavicle. Once they’re off, the shorter girl lets out a moan of relief and heat rises to the other’s cheeks as the sound reaches her ears. She stands, scooping up the boots and carrying them to Ouma’s bedroom. 

The violet-haired girl flops down onto the bed with a sigh, face buried in the checkered comforter and skirt rising up to give the room a few of her black panties. Saihara swallows nervously, tugging at the collar of her black turtleneck and clearing her throat. She heads to the door and hears light rustling.

“Make sure you take your makeup off before you-”

“Why are you always so nervous near me?” Ouma interrupts.

Sputtering, Saihara turns to face the other, who is now sitting up on the bed facing her.

“Wh-what?”

A wicked little smirk stretches across thin lips stained with purple lipgloss. Ouma reaches behind herself and unhooks the corset, with little to no difficulty. Her voice is sultry and taunting when she speaks.

“We’ve known each other since high school and you still act like you did back when we first met,” she notes.

Saihara’s eyes dance between her pale face and the slowly loosening article of clothing on her chest.

“What are you-”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a dirty little dyke with a big, fat crush on me.”

Saihara pales. “Y-you can’t...you shouldn’t say that word, it’s-”

“I’m literally gay.”

The corset is tossed to the side and then Ouma is leaning back on the bed and lifting her hips to pull the tule skirt off, then the fishnets right after. All that the taller girl can do in response is lean her palm against the doorframe behind her and watch with rapt attention as her friend strips oh so shamelessly in front of her. Ouma has milky white skin and everything is so dainty about her. Her thin limbs that carry her around seem longer now that they’re bare to the room, shiny and smooth from the looks of them. Her hair fans out over her head like a halo when she lays back and gives Saihara such a disgustingly cocky smirk.

“Come here,” the smaller girl barks out, and Saihara is following the command obediently, face ablaze with a blush.

Her cheeks are tingling with the pigment as she makes her way over and lowers herself onto the bed beside her friend’s lax form. One small hand reaches up and caresses her jawline with gentle knuckles. Before she can open her mouth to excuse her wandering eyes, Ouma is tangling her fingers in the long navy blue locks and tugging her down into a kiss. More than compliant, Saihara is kissing back in mere seconds, urged on by short fingernails gently scratching at her scalp. She’s giving in so easily, the heels of her palms digging into the mattress as she leans over the other’s smaller form and casts a shadow over the naked body beneath her. 

Then, she’s crawling onto the bed and straddling her friend’s waist. Ouma reaches up with her free hand and tugs the plaid coat open, shoving it off of Saihara’s bony shoulders with an impatient grunt. Her fingers dip into the band of the matching plaid pants, unbuttoning them with both hands after dropping her grip on the girl’s hair. She gets them open and wraps one small hand around Saihara’s neck, pushing her away from the kiss with a wet sound. Both of their lips are covered in spit.

She doesn’t even need to say anything before Saihara is standing up and quickly shimmying the pants down her legs. The taller girl has a slender figure too, but she is more developed and proportionate in some areas. Her thighs are thin but toned, the tendons in them flexing as she steps out of the garment. Her shirt comes off next, revealing to Ouma the beige bra cupping her handfuls of breasts. She has a lean body, the curves more dramatic than Ouma’s. The smaller girl finds her hands wanting to cover her own form out of an ancient insecurity stemming from her middle school days, but she suppresses the urge and smirks on.

“A beige bra, you’re such a grandma,” Ouma gripes playfully, waiting for the other to shadow her body again.

Saihara rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are still flushed and her lips are still trembling. With hesitation plaguing her arms, she finally reaches behind herself and unhooks her bra, then reaches for her panties. The shorter girl beats her to it, fingers dipping beneath the elastic and snapping it against her plush skin. Saihara gasps, the sting sending goosebumps down her legs. She quickly leans over Ouma and straddles her waist again, shaggy blue bangs falling over her amber eyes while she takes in the sight beneath her. 

Whatever she must have looked like seemed to amuse Ouma.

“As much as I love the way you’re looking at me right now, I should probably stay in control for your first time having super crazy lesbian sex,” the girl jokes, sitting up and craning her neck to look up at the other.

Saihara feels some sort of weight leave her shoulders, the desire to see her friend cry sparkling tears beneath her dissipating as she nods. 

“That’s my girl,” a milky white hand closes around her neck again and she melts.

Painted nails dig crescent marks into the tendons in her neck and sends shocks of pleasure throughout her body.

“God, I can feel you dripping on my tummy,” Ouma teases, obviously exaggerating.

Except maybe she isn’t. Saihara knows she’s wet, and she’s sitting with at least half of her weight on the other, so it’s very possible that she’s getting herself all over her friend’s skin. It doesn’t seem to bother Ouma, if anything, the smirk on the other’s lips is telling that she feels just the opposite. Her hips buck forward out of pure instinct and the slick slide that aids the way reveals to both of them that Ouma is correct.

“See? You nasty dyke,” she teases with a sly tint in her voice.

The degrading nature of her words only makes Saihara’s trembling thighs throb with another ache as she once again bucks forward and enjoys the friction between her thighs.

“I bet I know what’ll feel even better than that,” Ouma says as she regards the inexperienced girl above her with captivated eyes.

Saihara only then realizes that her own eyes are hooded, eyebrows knitted together in a form of concentration. Usually her attention and eye for detail is impeccable, but it was safe to say that she was too distracted to rely on her keen detective instincts at the moment. Before she can comprehend what’s happening, Ouma is sitting up and pushing her onto her back, then leaning her own form back once again. She’s balancing her weight on one elbow while she slots their hips together in a way that has more heat enveloping what’s between her legs.

“What are you-”

The violet-haired girl interrupts the other with a slow grind of her hips, turning the ending of Saihara’s question into a broken gasp. Petite fingers and gripping at her thigh, digging more crescent shapes into the expanse of skin and grounding her against the bed. Saihara clenches the bed spread in her fist when she’s granted more rubbing. Unsure of what to respond with, she settles for letting quiet pants leave her dry lips. Ouma is much better at this, taking her pleasure without restraint and drinking up the sounds that her friend makes.

“I bet that feels better than your pillow, doesn’t it  _ Saihara-chan _ ?” she taunts, looking down the length of their bodies and finding the other’s bashful gaze.

“K-Ko-kee-”

“You think I don’t hear you humping your pillow every night? Why can’t you just get a vibrator like a normal girl? I mean, I’d still hear it, but at least you’ll come faster with one,” Ouma explains, never once stopping the movement of her hips.

The muscles in her thighs are tensing and Saihara can feel it against her inner thighs because of the way they were slotted against one another.

“You’re one to t-talk - talk! - about com-m-ming fast!” she pants, sweat glistening underneath her bangs.

She swears that she sees a hint of a blush on Ouma’s cheeks, but the other is flopping down onto the bed completely and is now out of her sight. Seconds later, she feels a press of warm lips against the back of her thigh. Small kisses are littered over the trembling limb while one hand creeps down the front of it and a thumb slides between them. The wetness - was it that or was it sweat, Saihara wonders in embarrassment - provides all the harmony needed for Ouma to slide her thumb right against Saihara’s clit and rub mercilessly in little circles, using only the very end of the pad of her finger.

Saihara figures this is some sort of punishment for talking out of turn, but if this was punishment then it wouldn’t be a very effective one. If anything, it was serving more as an encouragement for her bad behavior. She’s throwing her head back and gripping the sheets and Ouma’s calf at the same time. Despite the pressure being so minimal, she was letting out high-pitched whines and arching her back toward the ceiling in seconds, only warning her friend after she’d felt the damn break.

“God, I’m - I’m coming! I’m-”

Ouma sits up to watch, eyes rapt with their attention on the spasming mess pressed against her. Her hips are moving of their own accord, one hand pressed into the mattress to keep her balance. She watches Saihara struggle so cutely to muffle her keens of pleasure by biting her lip, only bringing her wet thumb to the raw flesh once the girl goes limp against the bed and lets her legs fall open wider. Her teeth release the pink tissue easily and accept the invited digit willingly, eyes growing hungrier when they meet indigo ones. 

Amber is burning into Ouma’s soul while Saihara sucks on her thumb. Soon, with the thumb still in her mouth, the slender girl that towers over her is sitting up and pressing her hand against Ouma’s slim chest. The bed spread is cold against her back when she lays down and watches Saihara finally reject the finger, her second wind seemingly hitting her as she sinks down to press her front into the bed. Before the purple-haired girl can spit out some witty remark about this being a whole new - sluttier - side of Saihara, the other’s lips are closing around just her clit while she presses a wet kiss to the damp area.

“Oh, you damn-”

Two fingers are shoved into her mouth to effectively shut her up and she begrudgingly complies. If she were to be shut up by anyone or by any method, this one - with Saihara’s fingertips pressing against her togue - would be her first choice. The tip of the other’s tongue is teasing her, making her eyes cross when Saihara pushes the wet muscle forward just the right way. She isn;t inside, that’s what Ouma is being deprived of, but she is giving just enough attention to that bundle of nerves that in record time Ouma is coming with a string of curses and slurs leaving her lips.

Ouma laughs while she comes, Saihara learns definitively in that moment. She’s heard the other’s muffled laughter late at night before and assumed as much, but seeing up close and in the flesh like this was captivating. Ouma is laughing while she calls Saihara every name in the book at tugs at her navy blue hair viciously. Whimpers weasel their way from her throat but she swallows down the sounds associated with weakness, another habit she’d developed over those long few years of adolescent bullying. Saihara thinks the whimpers are music to her ears, she wants to hear more of them. With a quick glance at the clock, she decides that she  _ will  _ hear more of them tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> the way that I haven't even finished drv3 yet but had the overwhelming urge to write lesbian Kokichi and Shuichi oof


End file.
